Lullaby
by zhai
Summary: [my first fanfic please review] When two teenagers are brutally murdered on a camping trip, Sam and Dean investigate. They find an angry spirit is killing only certain people she comes in contact with. Can they find the connection between the spirit and
1. Chapter 1

**Supernatural-Lullaby **

_Warning: This is my first fanfic. Please review, but be gentle… J _

Brownwood, Texas

The campfire cast unearthly shadows around the circle. Four people, one boy and three girls, sat around it. The oldest, a dark-haired boy named Todd, had his arm draped around, Adrianne, the oldest of the girls. They sat close together to keep the icy breeze at bay. The other two sat close by, terrified looks on their faces.

"It's just a story," Adrianne reassured them.

"Oh no it's not," Todd interjected. "Everything I just told you is pure truth. My grandfather works at the cemetery. He swears it's all true."

"Your grandfather is nuts," chimed in Joanna, Adrianne's younger sister.

"I swear." Todd smiled mischievously, his eyes wide with mock innocence.

"Don't swear," the third girl got up from the circle and paced restlessly. She was the youngest of the three girls, but acted more mature than all of them put together.

"What's your problem, Becca?" Todd asked, obviously annoyed at her reaction.

"I just don't feel right," Becca Monroe answered.

"You just freaked her out," Joanna said, coming to her best friend's defense.

"You guys know that we're not far from the house right?" Todd said, his voice full of excitement.

"We are not going to the old Jensen place!" Becca demanded, starring Todd down.

"Oh God, Becca tell me you're not scared of some stupid urban legand," Adrianne shrugged her boyfriend's arm off of her and stood up.

"I…." she trailed off, "I just don't feel right about all of this."

"Come on Becca, live a little," Joanna urged.

"Let's go. We'll show you how stupid all of this really is," Adrianne led the way as Joanna followed.

"You guys sure? It could get a little spooky," Todd joked.

"Well, that's what I have my big strong man here for isn't it?" Adrianna said, putting her arm around his waist and matching his stride.

Becca looked back at the deserted campfire. As she turned to follow her friends, an icy wind stirred the campsite and blew the fire so that the flames danced for only a moment and then were extinguished, a thin pillar of smoke curled up ominously into the night's sky.

----------

Dean Winchester circled an article in a local newspaper as he sipped his coffee in a diner on the outskirts of a small Texas town. His brother Sam was hard at work tinkering with his laptop.

"What'd ya got?" Dean asked.

"Nothing," Sam answered, "At least nothing supernatural. What about you?"

"I found something kind of interesting. Listen to this: 'Two girls, Adrianne and Joanna Walters, were murdered in Brownwood, Texas while on a camping trip with several friends. The cause of death is unknown, but every bone in both girls' body was broken.' What do you think?"

Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes and closed his laptop. "I don't know," he said "It sounds a little weird, but a sudden collision could have caused that, or a fall, it could have been a lot of things."

"Or it could have been right up our alley," Dean said, finishing off his coffee.

"Does it say if there were any witnesses? Anyone we could talk to?" Sam inquired.

Dean read over the article again. "It doesn't have any names listed. What do you say we check it out? It's not that far from here."

"This is Texas," Sam argued, "Everywhere is far."

Dean folded the paper and stuffed into his bag. The two brothers then grabbed what little luggage they had, loaded up their 1967 Chevrolet Impala, and headed for Brownwood.

Several hours later, they pulled up to an old abandoned house surrounded by caution tape and police officers. Dean grabbed a fake FBI badge from the glove box and smiled at his brother. The two of them got out of the car and sauntered up to the nearest officer.

"So this is where the murder took place?" Sam asked.

The officer nodded, looking pale and a little queasy. They could tell that he hadn't seen many homicides. Dean tucked away the badge, hoping the rooky wouldn't be smart enough to ask for ID.

"I thought the victims were camping," Dean said, looking around the yard. There were no traces of a campfire or residue that would be left behind by a bunch of high school kids.

"The campsite is down by the river there," the officer answered, pointing east of the house. "They were probably looking for a good scare."

"A scare?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," the rooky said, looking surprised that they didn't know what he was talking about. "You know, local legend. The Jensen murder?"

"Oh right, right." Dean said. "How does that one go again?"

"You got to be kidding me," the officer looked at them both closer. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but a man called him over instead. "Excuse me, I'll be right back," he said, rushing to the side of the officer who had called him.

As the boys watched the incompetent cop scamper away, they were approached by a heavy-set man who appeared to be in his late forties. He held a hat in his hand, reveling a bald spot on the top of his head. As he walked over, his sheriff's badge came into focus.

"Can I help you boys?" he asked.

"Yes Sir," Sam answered, "We were just wondering if there were any witnesses?"

"Who did you say you were with?" the sheriff asked suspiciously.

Dean pulled out the badge and flashed it quickly, "Daniel Beaker, FBI. This is my partner…Lesley." he nodded toward Sam, who glared at him.

The old man didn't look convinced, but he answered anyway. "Yeah. Two kids were out here with them." he took out a small note pad and flipped through it until he found what he was looking for. "Becca Monroe and Todd Forester. We questioned them, but they were pretty shook up."

Sam committed the names to memory and nodded towards the man. "Thanks for your time, Sheriff."

The two brothers took their cue to leave. The sheriff stared after them as they got into their car, not quite sure what to make of the strange duo.

"Lesley!" Sam demanded.

"I panicked," Dean replied, stifling a laugh.

"But Lesley! Is that even a guy's name?"

"I'm not sure, Sweetheart. Why don't you get in the car and we can talk about this later?" Dean opened the car door for Sam and then got in on the driver's side, earning him a death glare from his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

_(The last chapter felt a little rushed, so I tried to take me time a little more on this one…enjoy)_

**Chapter Two**

The Monroe household was empty except for Becca. She sat on the living room couch, wrapped in a floral comforter. Her mother had left for the store only moments before, but to Becca, it seemed like an eternity. Every time she turned around she thought a shadow was some kind of other-worldly creature come to force her down into the gates of Hell.

Becca had never been this paranoid. She had always considered herself the voice of reason. When all the other girls were sitting around telling ghost stories, she was in the library reading history books, learning about the real ghosts of the past. But now that Joanna and Adrianne were gone, murdered right in front of her, she couldn't stop seeing monsters everywhere.

In an effort to think about something else for a change, she turned on the TV. She regretted this instantly. It showed the old Jensen place, surrounded by cops and reporters. They were talking about the murder. It showed two gurneys being rolled into an ambulance, each covered with a blood-soaked sheet . She clicked off the TV and threw the remote as far away from her as she possibly could. Then, she wrapped up tighter with the blanket and hugged her legs to her stomach.

When she heard the doorbell, she jumped about three feet in the air. _Chill_ she told herself. She looked through the peak hold in the door and saw two men standing on the other side. They didn't look like reporters, but then, who really knew what reporters looked like anyway? She opened the door cautiously.

"Can I help you?" She asked, ready to slam the door in their faces if they requested an interview with her.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is my brother, Sam." one of them answered. "We were wondering if we could ask you a few questions?"

"I'm sorry, but I've done enough interviews." She began to close the door.

"Wait!" the other one, Sam, exclaimed before she could close it all the way. "I know you've been through a lot. But we need to talk to you. We're not reporters."

"Then who are you?" Becca asked suspiciously.

"We were friends of Adrianne," Dean said, bowing his head in respect.

"Please, we just need a few answers," Sam urged.

"Yeah for…..closure and all that," Dean added.

Becca still wasn't sure whether or not she believed them, but she reasoned that if she were in their shoes, she would want the same thing. She reluctantly opened the door for them and showed them into the living room.

"So, you were there…..when it happened?" Sam asked delicately, obviously trying to be sensitive, unlike the many reporters who had come before these two.

"Kind of," she answered honestly. "I didn't see what happened to her, if that's what you mean." she hung her head in shame.

"What do you mean? I thought that you were camping with them," Dean asked.

"Well I was," she recalled that night, "You see, this is what happened. We were camping out by the lake when we got the bright idea to scare each other. It was so immature. Todd was telling ghost stories and trying to get a rise out of Joanna and me," a tear slid down her face as she said her late best friends name. "Anyway, he told us the old Jensen legend, which totally freaked me out. Then, he and Adrianne got the bright idea to check out the old house. I didn't want to go, but they were all leaving. I stayed behind for a while, but then got scared and went to catch up. When I finally did, I just heard screaming." she couldn't hold back the torrent of tears that now flowed freely from her eyes.

"So you didn't see what happened to them?" Sam asked quietly, putting his hand on her shoulder to calm her.

"No," she said miserably. "God, if I hadn't been such a wimp! Maybe I could've saved them."

"What about Todd?" Dean asked.

"When I ran up to see what was going on, he grabbed me and ran. He was saying something about a woman," Becca recalled.

"A woman?" Dean perked up.

"He was so hysterical, I don't think he knew what he was talking about." she shuddered as she recalled the horrified look on Todd's face. Until then, she had never seen his scared of anything, but that night pure terror was etched in his face. Becca shuddered at the memory.

"Thank you for talking with us," Sam said, getting to his feet, "It's really helped a lot."

"And if you remember anything, anything at all, give us a call," Sam took a scrap piece of paper from his pocket and wrote down his cell phone number.

Becca took the paper and looked at the men. "Anything weird?" she asked, "The whole night was weird."

"Yeah, well you know, just in case you want to talk," Dean said, attempting to sound sensitive.

Becca nodded and showed the two of them to the door.

"Thanks again for your time," Sam said

----------

"So what do you think?" Sam asked his brother, once they were safely in the car and out of hearing range.

"I think we need to talk to Todd," Dean answered, turning the key in the ignition.

----------

It was a regular night at Tipsy's Bar. Several local townsfolk here scattered here and there sipping from their mason jars while watching the football game that was playing on the big screen near the back of the room. Game day had brought out a fair crowd, husbands seeking an escape from their wives, single men looking for a good time, and the small group of high school seniors who were drinking cokes with their eyes glued to the TV.

Moe, the bar owner, didn't mind the kids coming in on game nights. His bartenders knew not to serve any of them alcohol and they usually kept it down, until their team started to lose, that is. The teens were cheering for a running back to make a touch down when Moe noticed Todd Forester walk into the bar. He looked down right miserable, but Moe suspected that he would be too if he had gone through what Todd had just a few nights ago. Moe nodded a hello and watched as the troubled teen took a seat at the bar instead of sitting with his pals.

Todd put his head in his hands as he tried to clear his mind. He had come to Tipsy's in order to escape the pitying looks from his father and his mother's hysterics. She had loved Adrianne like a daughter and was almost as upset as Adrianne's own mother at the young girl's death. She had spent this entire week sobbing and recalling every single date Todd and Adrianne had been on, every kind word Adrianne had every said, and recalling stories behind every picture of Todd and Adrianne in the house.

Todd couldn't think about those times, because no matter how hard he tried to only think about the good, he remembered watching her die. He was disgusted with himself. Why didn't he do more to help? What _could_ he have done? He shook his head, trying to banish the image of his girlfriend's distorted face screaming for him to save her.

When he looked up, a man was sitting in the bar stool next to him. "Can I buy you a drink?" the stranger asked.

"Sorry," he replied a little thrown off by the man's sudden appearance, "I don't swing that way."

"Swing?" the man said indignantly, "Who said anything about swinging? I just know what a man who needs a drink looks like."

"Why not?" was Todd's reply. He didn't bother to inform the stranger that he was underage. He figured with the week he had had, he deserved a stiff drink. Apparently, so did Moe. He poured Todd a beer and accepted the man's money without any questions or comments. Todd drink the beer eagerly, hoping that it would wash away Adrianne's face from his memory.

"Wow," the man commented after seeing Todd down the last of the beer, "Must have been a hell of a day,"

"You have no idea," Todd answered bitterly.

"I'm Dean by the way," he added, ordering Todd another beer.

"Congratulations," Todd said sarcastically, accepting the second drink and downing half of it right away.

"So, who's the girl?" Dean asked, watching Todd carefully.

"Excuse me?" Todd asked, bewildered. Did this man somehow know about Adrianne?

"The way I see it, when a man drinks like that, a girl is involved." Dean stated wisely, sipped his own beer. "So, who is she?"

"She's dead, what does it matter?" Todd replied, his voice filled with anguish

"Tough break," Dean said, in what Todd guessed, he considered a sympathetic tone. "You need to talk about it?"

"What are you? My shrink?" Todd questioned as he downed the last of his beer and let out a long belch.

"Just think of me as Dr. Dean." he answered, "Like Dr. Phil, only with hair." he laughed at his own joke and took another swig of his beer, but Todd wasn't laughing.

"Do you really want to know?" Todd asked seriously.

"That's why I asked isn't it?" Dean reasoned.

"Fine, so long as you don't call the funny farm on me, I'll tell you."

----------

Outside of the bar, Sam sat in the passenger's seat of his brother's Impala looking at his laptop screen. He was looking at obituaries, something he did alarmingly often ever since his girlfriend, Jessica had died. He looked out the window and saw Dean approaching. Not wanting his brother to think he was too obsessed, he closed the laptop as Dean opened the driver's side door and got into the car.

"Well?" Sam asked as Dean started up the ignition, "What did you find out?"

"That high school kids are lightweights." Dean answered, putting in his favorite AC/DC cassette and turning up the volume as they pulled away from the bar.


	3. Chapter 3

_This chapter is dedicated to Courters. This time you really can say I put you in my story. Don't hate my for it._

**Chapter 3**

The tall Jensen house loomed ominously before the two brothers. Now that police no longer littered the front lawn, the grandeur of the old mansion was evident. Anyone could see that this place had once been the envy of the entire town. However, the years of neglect had taken its toll. The once magnificent manor was now an empty shell. Its windows, which once boasted the brilliance inside, were now dark and glaring down at onlookers. ………….(more detail)

Sam starred at the house, and then back at dean in confusion. "What are we doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting for dark," Dean replied simply. He sat in the driver's side of the jet black Impala, a sup of coffee in his hand. He sipped it quietly, never taking his eyes off the house.

"So we're going in blind?" Sam asked, somewhat concerned.

Dean didn't answer, he just took another sip of his black coffee and continued looking up at the house.

"Don't you want to at least learn more about what we're going in after?" Sam asked.

"That's what I plan on doing," Dean answered.

The sun began to set, giving everything a red-orange glow to it and causing the surrounding trees to cast long shadows on the house, giving it a menacing look.

Dean downed the last of his coffee and stepped out of the Impala, followed by Sam, to the trunk. He shifted through the truck's contents until he had what he was looking for. He pocketed a small home-made EMF detector and threw a handheld camcorder at his brother. He then picked up his trusty sawed-off shotgun and began filling it with rock salt. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Sam did the same.

"So, are you going to tell me what Todd said?" Sam asked once his own gun was loaded and cocked.

"I'm still not sure whether or not I believe him." Dean muttered.

"Maybe you shouldn't have gotten him wasted before you started questioning him," Sam scolded. "Not everyone has your tolerance."

Dean smirked, "They should be so lucky," he said, walking up to the front door of the old mansion, which was dean bolted.

Sam brushed aside Dean and got out a set of tools he had in his pocket to pick the lock. Dean gave him a sideways glance before letting him pass. As Sam attempted to outsmart the deadbolt, Dean made his way to the car. Sam bit his lip as he tinkered with the lock to no avail. Suddenly, Dean knocked his bother out of the way. Sam looked up just in time to see him prying the door open with a crowbar he had apparently retrieved from the trunk.

The door swung open, causing Dean to smirk as he walked through the front door.

Inside, the old house was dark and sinister. The large entry room was void of all furniture, giving it a vast and cold feeling. It had obviously withstood a fire at some point because burn marks charred the wall and floor. The floorboards were creaky and rotting, probably from stagnant water collecting there over time. An old staircase stood to the left of the room, next to a hallway that reveled several other rooms.

Dean shone a flashlight in the house, surveying the room. He looked over at Sam, who was doing the same.

"I'll take upstairs, you take downstairs," he instructed his brother. Sam nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

Dean began ascending the staircase cautiously, checking for rotted boards that could give way under him. Once he was at the top, he used his flashlight to illuminate his way. From was he could see, the upstairs was much different from the downstairs. The fire that had devastated the lower half of the house had apparently not reached the second story. It was littered with antique furniture strategically placed in order to maximize the space of the old room. Of course, time had taken its toll on the place. The furniture was molding and covered in dust, cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the wallpaper was torn and peeling off the walls.

Positioning the flashlight between his ear and shoulder, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out the EMF reader. The tiny device didn't make a sound as he searched for a spike somewhere in the room. Dean could see why the locals regarded this place as haunted, but so far he didn't see anything supernatural about it. He continued looking through the rooms, each as normal, though a bit decayed looking, as the last. He heaved a sigh and made his way downstairs. As he did, he spotted his brother standing at the foot of the staircase. Sam looked as exasperated as dean felt.

"So what do you think Sammy?" he asked, "Are your Spidey-Senses tingling?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "I didn't find anything." he stated, holding up the camcorder as evidence. "No orbs, no figures, nothing. What about you?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, "I think it's a bust. I didn't get anything on EMF." Lugging the shotgun over his shoulder, Dean led the way back to the car.

"So do you think Todd was lying?"

"Looks like it." Dean said. He slid into the driver's seat as Sam slammed the trunk closed. Dean gave one last look at the house before pealing out.

An icy wind blew through the trees surrounding the old house, causing several leaves to fall on the ground, covering a small device left behind. A high pitched beeping noise blared through the headphones attached to it, but no one was around to hear it. It gave one last squeal before sparks erupted and the sound died.

The Brownwood Public Library was nearly deserted. The librarian, a young woman who's name tag read "Courtney Hammond" sat down several books on local folklore on the round table where the two mysterious men were seated, earning her a warm smile from the one who had introduced himself as Dean. She blushed furiously and in a nervous gesture, adjusted her thick framed glasses.

"So you two are doing a report on local legends?" she asked, amazed at her ability to form sentences with Dean's gaze on her.

Dean cocked a half smile, "Yeah, we're history majors up at Howard Payne University."

"I love history!" Courtney quipped, attempting to give him a flirty look, but ending up making herself look drowsy in the process.

Dean gave a chuckle and tossed a glace at the other guy he was with, whose nose was buried in a book on haunted houses located in Texas.

"So, do you know anything about that old Jensen house?" Dean asked, once it was obvious his companion was unresponsive.

Courtney's eyes lit up. She beamed at Dean and adjusted her glasses once more. "If you two are history majors, you'll definitely have to check that place out."

"Why is that?" Dean asked coyly.

Courtney smirked, loving every second of the attention she was receiving from this drop dead gorgeous man. "Because of the murders." she stated, forcing her voice to sound mater-of-fact.

"Murders?" the other man asked, looking up from his book for the first time.

Courtney's smile widened at the other guy's interest. "They never really proved it, but the story is that someone broke into the house in the middle of the night and murdered Old Lady Jensen. Then, they lit the place on fire."

The two men exchanged a glace that Courtney didn't quite catch.

"Anyway," she continued, "They say she haunts the place now, looking for her children to save them from the fire."

"What happened to the children?" dean asked

Courtney sighed dramatically, "No one knows. The police never found their remains in the house, and no one ever heard from them after that night." She watched Dean closely, but he didn't give much of a reaction. She guessed that he watched a lot of horror movies.

"I think there's an article about it around here somewhere." she said eagerly

"Wow. If you could find us an article on that, we could use that for our paper." dean said, giving the young librarian a dreamy smile.

Courtney could feel her knees turn to jelly as nodded furiously, unable to make any other sound but high pitched squeak as she turned on her heel and practically sprinted to the back, in search of the newspaper article.

One the bouncy librarian was gone, dean turned to his brother, a cocky grin on his face, "If all librarians were like her in high school, I might have read a book or two." he said.

Sam laughed, "The only book you read was Playboy."

"It's better than being a nerd, like you," Dean said indignantly.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued reading

Dean laughed for a second, but then became serious. "So, Nerd Boy, it looks like there's a violent history attached to the house. Think it might be enough to cause a haunting?" he asked.

Sam thought for a second, "A murder like that could cause a vengeful spirit to attach itself to the place." He closed the book he was flipping through and sat up straight in his chair, "But there should've been _something_on EMF if the place were haunted.

"I'm telling you, I didn't get so much as a beep on EMF. The place was clean."

"That's weird," Same said thoughtfully.

"What? Did you find something?" Dean leaned over to get a closer look at the book his brother had been reading.

Sam shrugged him away, "No, not that."

"What then?" Dean asked, getting annoyed.

"Something should've shown up on the EMF meter. Even if there wasn't any paranormal activity. There were power lines not to far from the place and even the electrical wiring would have interfered at least somewhat. Maybe your EMF meter is broken."

Dean folded his arms indignantly, "There is nothing wrong with my EMF meter, I made it myself."

"That's my point," Sam said under his breath.

Dean got up from the chair he had been occupying and grabbed his duffle bag, putting it on the table.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Sam demanded in a fierce whisper, looking around frantically to see if anyone noticed Dean's sudden gesture.

"Proving that there's nothing wrong with the EMP meter." Dean said, digging through the bag's contents.

"In case you haven't noticed," Same said, also getting up from his seat, in case anyone decided to choose now to notice the two of them. "We're in a public place, and pulling out a bunch of demon hunting equipment might not be the most brilliant idea right now."

"It's not here," Dean said, looking up from the duffel bag.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"What do you mean 'what do I mean'? I mean it's not here. I think I left it at the Jensen place."

"How could you be--" Sam began, but was interrupted by the return of the bubbly librarian, who was carrying a stack of old newspapers.

"you two are in luck!" she said, putting the heap on the table, causing a cloud of dust to fly up around them and making her nose tickle. She held in a sneeze, determined no to screw up what she had going so far with Dean. "Not only did I find the article on Old Lady Jensen, but I also found three more articles on the Jensen place!" she exclaimed proudly.

"Wow, that's great Caitlin," dean said, picking up the duffel bag he had placed on the table.

"It's Courtney," she corrected.

"Right, that what I said." He picked up the stack of newspapers she had placed on the table, "You don't mind if we barrow these, do you? We're kind of in a hurry."

Courtney's smile faded, "Oh, um I guess not. I mean if you _have_ to go…" she said, hoping desperately that he would stick around longer and racking her brain for some flirty gesture or phrase that would make him want to stay. Nothing.

He flashed her that devastatingly sexy smile and put the papers into the duffel bag. "Thanks, Casey," he said as he and his companion rushed toward the exit.

"It's Courtney." she said to no one in particular. She watched as the two of them hurried past the many rows of books and people studying for finals and catching up on their favorite fiction books without a word to each other or anyone else as if they were on some kind of mission. She sighed longingly as they passed through the automatic doors, praying that they would return. And, once they were no where in sight, Courtney sneezed.

It was once again just before sunset at the Jensen house. The sun casting an unearthly orange glow on everything it could still reach in its weakening state. Once again the trees that surrounded the old place cast larger-than-life shadows that looked like they belonged in some 1950's horror flick than in the quiet town of Brownwood, Texas. In fact, everything about the Jensen place looked as it had the previous night, including the black Impala that sat outside of it.

However, there was one thing different about his night. This particular night, Becca Monroe had finally had it with being constantly camped out in her room, refusing to leave for fear that something would come for her. This night, she had decided to prove to herself once and for all that nothing sinister was in the Jensen house, that her best friend had merely been the victim of relationship abuse and nothing more. Which is why, on this night, she was looking out at the old manor from the safety of a tall oak tree a few yards away.

"Do you see it?" Sam called to Dean, who was scouring the front yard for his missing EMF meter.

"No, no yet," dean answered. He kicked over a fallen tree limb that was in his ways and wished he had realized the instrument was missing before it had started to get dark. The long shadows that the nearby trees were casting were no held to him. Then, as he brushed aside a pile of fallen leaved with his foot, he saw a hard plastic rectangle that vaguely resembled a walkman.

"I found it!" Dean announced triumphantly. He bent down and retrieved the device and, as he looked up, he saw something move in the corner of his eye. Dean's head snapped up just in time to see someone take off from behind a nearby tree. "Hey!" he called, following after the retreating form.

Sam looked up as dean flew past him in pursuit of, what appeared to be, a young girl. Sam followed his brother as the figure zigged and zagged between trees, giving the two brothers a run for their money in the unfamiliar territory. The two of them split up, one on each side of the fleeting figure, until Sam was up ahead and dean was on the left side. He yelled for her to stop, but she continued on, up until she plowed into Sam, who had suddenly came to a halt in front of her. They both were knocked to the ground. Dean starred as he saw Becca Monroe get to her feet, attempting to catch her breath.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean demanded, still slightly out of breath.

"I-I…" Becca trailed off. Her eyes were glued to her shoes and she refused to look up.

"Becca," Sam said, his voice soft with compassion. "What did you come back here?"

"you saw something. Didn't you?" Dean demanded, aggravation evident in his tone. He didn't appreciate being spied on, and he definitely didn't like having to run down some high school girl. "You lied to us before. You know what happened to Adrianne and Joanna!" Dean accused.

"Dean," Sam cautioned, not wanting to scare Becca away again.

"Something happened in that house. That's why you came back here. Isn't it?"

Becca didn't say anything, she just kicked around leaves with her foot.

"Becca, listen," same said soothingly, "You can tell us. Did you see something kill Adrianne and Joanna?"

"Yes," Becca said, looking up from her shoes, "I saw who killed them." Her voice was matter-of-fact and she showed no emotion as she spoke.

"Who?" Sam asked kindly.

"Todd Forrester."


End file.
